


Country Magic #9 - Here Tonight

by olivejuice28



Series: Country Magic [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: Sometimes it's just better to go with it. Based off the song "Here Tonight" by Brett Young.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Country Magic [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518281
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	Country Magic #9 - Here Tonight

**Country Magic #9**

**Here Tonight by Brett Young**

He sat beside her under the stars, with the waves crashing just a few yards away. A light breeze moved the air around them but it was still warm and mildly humid, as summer nights tend to be. It was peaceful and comfortable in a way he’d never dared associate with her, thanks to their tumultuous history, and he couldn’t let go of the notion that at any moment he was going to wake up, or worse, that someone was going to come crashing through the beach grass and announce the joke was up, thanks for playing along. Either option would be more believable than the possibility of her actually enjoying his company, yet she seemed perfectly content. He didn’t know what to make of it and was rather terrified of saying or doing something asinine and breaking whatever spell had been cast over them.

  
Only a quarter-moon shone above them that night, but it was still enough to see her, to drink in the exquisite features he’d spent the past year and a half memorizing. Gone were the out-of-control frizz, oversized teeth, and gangly limbs of an adolescent school girl, and in their place a stunning, poised, and graceful woman remained. Her chestnut curls were longer now and glossy, like ribbons twirling over her shoulders. Her smile could light up a room, especially when it reached her eyes, which was often, and they sparkled with happiness, or triumph, or mischief, (which was his favorite). She was still petite, but her figure was soft and curved in all the right places, and made her skirts move in ways he wasn’t ashamed to admit caught his eye.

  
As beautiful as she was, however, it was simply an added bonus to the person she was within. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge had translated to an insatiable need to understand the workings of the laws and legislation the Wizarding World was founded on, and she brought that need, along with a hefty amount of determination and stubbornness, into her job in the Magical Being Division as soon as her N.E.W.T.s had been obtained. She had been there for three years when he first encountered her, having gone abroad to study magical law in the wake of his release from a year under strict house arrest, and he hadn’t been even remotely prepared for that reacquaintance.

  
He was in the middle of a meeting with his new supervisor, Gethsemane Prickle, the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, when a brisk knock on the door interrupted them. The older witch beckoned whoever was on the other side to enter, and that was the first time in over five years that he’d been in the same room as Hermione Granger. She’d been entirely focused on the parchment in her hand and began speaking to the other woman without even glancing up. It wasn’t until she’d walked all the way into the office, right up to the side of the desk he was sitting in front of, that she finally lifted her gaze and took notice of those around her.

  
Her eyes had gone wide, and her jaw dropped slightly as she registered who he was. He’d stiffened a little, preparing for at the very least some sort of snide comment or critical remark, but none came. In fact, she’d blinked a few times, seemed to collect herself and nodded at him with a word of welcome before apologizing to Gethsemane for interrupting and saying she’d just come back later. As she turned to leave, she’d flashed him a smile that made the back of his neck heat and left him wondering what on earth had just happened. His supervisor merely chuckled and told him he’d better get used to the whirlwind that was Miss Granger because he would be working quite closely with her in the days to come.

  
He’d been hired, it turned out, to be the first barrister ever brought on in Ministry history solely to work on behalf of magical beings who needed representation. The need for this particular position arose as Hermione fought to defend and protect those who had been mistreated by the Wizarding community for centuries, both by the archaic legislation that had been passed without any real understanding of the creatures they were supposed to be aiding, as well as by the general public whose knowledge of said creatures was woefully limited. Her campaign to give all beings a voice in how their existence was to play out had been extremely successful until she actually wanted laws to be changed or rewritten. Having no legal expertise or training, nor the time to pursue such endeavors in her current position, she requested some form of assistance be given to the department for that very purpose. Enter one Draco Malfoy.

  
It was his own fault, for being caught off guard like that, he lectured himself once he was back home that evening. He’d been so surprised to be offered an interview only a week after returning to Britain that he’d jumped at the chance without doing any real research into who exactly he’d be working with. Honestly, he would’ve taken an entry-level desk job pushing papers for the greenest lawyers in the building if it meant being given a chance to make a new name for himself, but it seemed the fates were on his side for once. His law professors had written glowing recommendations for him, and he knew several renowned barristers throughout Wizarding Europe had talked him up to their English counterparts in recent months. Apparently his skill set fit right in with what Ms. Prickle was looking for, and he’d be a fool not to accept the offer she’d made him.

  
He’d still been apprehensive about the arrangement, regardless of Hermione’s cordial greeting. It was one thing to be civil in front of your boss, but wholly another to work day-in and day-out with someone who used to bully you mercilessly as a child; someone who treated you as if you were worthless; someone who stood by and did nothing while you were tortured. The thought of all that hung in the air between them tied his stomach in knots the first day he walked into her office, which was right next door to his, but he was determined to start with a clean slate. He’d fidgeted and stammered and eventually blurted out an incredibly inelegant and guilt-ridden apology as well as a heart-felt ‘thank you’ for being given the chance to work with her. She’d taken it all in stride, patiently nodding and simply watching him with kindness and understanding in her warm brown eyes, and gave him a smile that made his heart stutter as she offered him a seat in the chair across her desk.

  
They’d talked for several hours, mostly about her work in the department and what his job would entail, but they also touched on more personal subjects like their parents, and how they’d been coping since the war. There was much more left unsaid than was shared, but an understanding had been reached and there was a hopeful promise of more conversations to come. At least, that was how he’d taken things once he forced himself to get out of his chair and make his way back to his own office. He joked that she ‘knew where to find him,’ if she needed anything, and she’d retorted with a charming laugh and a promise that he’d probably get sick of her by the end of next week. Somehow he highly doubted that.

  
The old adage that time flies when you’re having fun is obviously subject to what the person noticing the passing of the hours and days considers to be an enjoyable activity. For Draco, it seemed as if he’d blinked and a year had gone by. His days were filled with interesting cases, meetings with clients, appearances in the courtroom, and Hermione. Every day, Monday through Friday, he knew he would see her and it made waking up at the crack of dawn something he looked forward to (something his younger self would never have met with such enthusiasm). They met at least once a day to discuss current files, but she was usually in his office a handful of other times, dropping off paperwork, asking a question, collecting something she needed. He popped into hers a little less frequently, but only because he didn’t want to bother her or wear out his welcome. If it were up to him, he’d move his desk into her office just so he could see her all the time.

  
He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d grown so attached to the curly-haired witch, but by the time his one-year employment anniversary rolled around, it was quite obvious, at least to him. That morning, he’d poked his head into her office expecting to see her already elbow-deep in case files, but she wasn’t there. He shrugged it off and settled in behind his own desk, preparing to review the documents for a case he’d be presenting before the Wizengamot the next day, but he couldn’t seem to focus. Anytime someone walked by he looked up to see if it was her, and he kept watching the clock, wondering what on earth could be keeping her. She was never late, never took a day off. The only other time she’d been out of the office in the morning, it was to visit a small clan of merpeople off the coast of Margate, and she’d told him about it the day before. Not that she needed to report to him, at any rate. If anything, he needed to let her know his whereabouts, since he technically worked for her on cases she gave him.

  
He’d decided that if the clock reached the one hour mark, he’d go see if Gethsemane had any clue as to what was going on, but that wound up being an unnecessary plan. Forty-seven minutes after he’d arrived, she came bustling into his office with her arms full and her face flushed, but with a brilliant smile etched across it. Apparently, she’d gone to his favorite coffee shop, the one two blocks over instead of the more convenient one across the street, to get him a large dark chocolate mocha, something he only indulged in on special occasions. She plunked it down on his desk along with a small cardboard box tied with white string. Upon opening it, he realized she’d also made the trek to the bakery around the corner, in the opposite direction from the café. The box was filled with Eccles cake, shortbread, and Chelsea buns, and he couldn’t resist inhaling the sweet aroma of his favorite baked goods. If he’d learned anything over the last few years, it was that Muggles knew how to bake and make a spanking good cup of coffee.

  
She’d sunk into the chair across from him with her own steaming cup of vanilla chai and explained that a celebration was in order since he’d survived a year of working with her. He’d chuckled appreciatively and confessed he truly enjoyed being there and found the work to be more fulfilling than he’d imagined. He felt like he was helping the magical beings that came to them for assistance, that he was making a difference in some small way, and he was glad for that. He met her eyes across his cluttered desk and found them sparkling as if they held a secret – one he desperately wanted to know. They dug into her proffered confections and chatted about upcoming cases before admitting that they couldn’t stall forever and really did need to buckle down and accomplish something. He thanked her again for the thoughtful and delicious acknowledgement of his trip around the sun and, before he could talk himself out of it, asked her if she’d like to grab dinner one night. The surprise that flitted across her face almost made him want to take it back, but she quickly regrouped and said she’d love to, smiling at him in a way only she could before heading to her own office.

  
They went to dinner a few nights later, to a French restaurant not too far from the entrance to Diagon Alley. Over decadent entrees and refilled wine glasses, they engaged in more of those conversations he had become so very fond of. They talked briefly about work, but mostly about their own interests and hobbies, and things they’d never done but would like to. Some were simple, more common activities like taking a moon-lit stroll on the beach, or riding the London Eye. Others were a little grander, like travelling to various countries, or meeting a beloved, famous author. He realized with no small degree of hidden pleasure that many of their wishes overlapped and wondered if perhaps there would be opportunities to check some items off the list together in the future.

  
That first dinner became one of many. In the beginning, Draco hadn’t wanted to seem over-zealous or clingy, so he had refrained from asking her out again the following week. Their interactions at work remained friendly and comfortable, and Hermione gave no sign that she wanted things to change. The second week after their date, however, he managed to take her to lunch by conveniently leaving his office right as she was heading to the cafeteria. He made up an excuse about needing to stop by the small stationery store down the street, and said the sandwiches from the place next door were much better than the ones in the Ministry lunch room. She laughed and told him she couldn’t argue with that, and happily joined him for an hour in a booth in the front window of the small delicatessen. A week later, a new pizza place opened that he just had to try, but none of his mates would go with him (that was a flat-out lie since Theo was a gigantic fan of the Muggle food, but she didn’t need to know that).

  
Every time they ventured out together, he found himself being wound more tightly around her little finger, though not for anything she had done to manipulate that. No, in fact, it was simply being with her, listening to her, learning about her, enjoying her company, that had turned him into a massive pile of mush inside and he couldn’t muster the inclination to care. There were times when he caught her looking at him as if she was trying to figure him out, as if he was a tricky Arithmancy problem she was trying to solve, and he wondered what was going through her head. He hadn’t found quite enough courage to tell her exactly how he felt about her, at least not yet, but he was hoping that if things kept going the way they had been, then maybe he’d have a better inkling about where she stood, which would make it slightly less daunting when he eventually did pour his heart out.

  
Several more months of seemingly random and even spontaneous dates went by, though in reality every single one of them had been carefully plotted and planned to look as if the pieces just fell into place (remember, Slytherin), and one day a golden opportunity arose. Gethsemane’s son was getting married to a lovely witch from the Studland Bay area, and she was inviting all the top tier members of her department to join them for the beachfront ceremony and reception. Since both he and Hermione were invited, he commented that it would make sense for them to go together, and she’d studied him with that same, curious look again before smirking and saying she would never dare do something that didn’t make sense, though the wink she flashed him as she’d left the office said otherwise.

  
And that was how he found himself in his current situation, sitting on the beach hours after the sun had set, watching the waves roll in and out and thoroughly enjoying the presence of the amazing woman beside him. The wedding had been lovely, the food delicious, and the champagne some of the best he’d ever had, but nothing had compared to the feel of her in his arms as they’d danced to a couple of the slower songs. He’d been extremely reluctant to let her go, but the cake cutting is rather a big deal and he didn’t think it would be good form to refuse to move from their spot on the dancefloor as the buttercream masterpiece was rolled out. As the happy newlyweds fed each other bites of cake, Hermione suggested they take their pieces and go out to the beach, and he’d enthusiastically agreed, snagging two more flutes of bubbly on their way out.

  
The empty plates and glasses sat off to the side, and for the last several minutes they had been sitting in companionable silence. She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder as she gave a contented sigh. Without realizing what he was doing, he turned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting his lips linger there as he breathed in the citrusy-sweet scent of her curls. As soon as he comprehended what he’d done, he froze. Up until this point, there had been virtually no physical interaction between them, aside from a kiss on her cheek after she’d given him a birthday gift, and she’d hugged him when he’d given her a Christmas present. In the weeks that they’d been dating, if one could even call it that, he’d done nothing more than place his hand on the small of her back as they walked through a door. He had no idea if she wanted anything more from him and was terrified of making a wrong move and sending her screaming for the hills. She seemed to enjoy his company, but that didn’t mean she wanted things to go any farther, and if he’d gone and mucked this up by…

  
“Stop thinking, Draco.”

  
His eyes flew wide and he inhaled sharply. He managed a strangled hum, as if questioning her statement.

  
She shifted so she was facing him fully, her eyes reflecting the moon-lit sky above, her mouth curved in a teasing smirk, “You’re overthinking this, and that’s saying something, coming from me.” She gave a small huff and tilted her head as if in consideration, her eyes roving his features, “What is it you want?”

  
He blinked owlishly at her, trying to get his brain to work, trying to come up with an acceptable answer when everything he wanted to say was sappy, nonsensical rubbish.

  
She leaned a little closer and his heart tried to climb up his throat.

  
“Right now, in this moment, what do you want?” her voice was barely above a whisper but her words sparked a coil of heat in his gut.

  
“To kiss you,” he breathed, his eyes still wide and fixed on her, afraid that if he blinked she’d disappear.

  
That smile was back, the one that drove him spare, and he didn’t think and didn’t plan and simply leaned into her and captured her lips with a kiss that felt like it had been a lifetime in the making. He slid one hand around her waist to pull her closer, and the other up into her silken curls. She was holding onto one of his arms, but her other hand was caressing the side of his face. He pulled back for just a second, just long enough to confirm that this was real and she was still there before angling his head and kissing her again, this time longer and deeper than before. She tasted like champagne and sugar and her hands left a trail of sparks as they roamed over his shoulders, his back, his chest, and around his neck where she buried her fingers in his hair. At some point he’d apparently pulled her into his lap because when they broke apart to breathe, that’s where he found her.

  
He was absolutely positive the look on his face was one of dopey bliss, but he couldn’t be fussed. She was smiling again as she ran her fingers through his now-messy hair, her eyes swirling with more emotions than he could name at the moment. She kissed him gently and whispered.

  
“What do you want, now?”

  
“To never leave this place,” he mumbled as he peppered kisses along her jaw. He felt her give a small laugh, and simply tugged her closer. Her lips met his again and for several heartbeats their tongues danced and their fingers explored before they needed to come up for air.

  
“Good thing we don’t have anywhere we need to be then, hmm?” she teased lightly as she left fluttery kisses down his neck, past the collar of his shirt she’d unbuttoned earlier while he was otherwise engaged. She lingered on a spot right above his collarbone and he let out a low rumble.

  
“A very good thing,” he muttered as he gently tilted her chin up and claimed her lips once more.

**“We can just stay here in this minute, lose all track of time, let the world spin on without us for a while. I’m telling you, we’re just one kiss away from heaven, so baby, hold on tight, ‘cause I want to get wrapped up in your love. So baby, let’s just stay here tonight, tonight.” ~Brett Young**

**Author's Note:**

> Another happy little o/s for my favorite pair. I've recently realized that I'm rather addicted to backstory and details - I can't seem to write anything without explaining how they got there or what the history is. But it's things I would want to know as a reader, so... I hope you enjoy this one! :)


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